Buyer Beware
by REIDFANATIC
Summary: Sequel to The Gift Exchange  Reid and Garcia embark on a shopping trip
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: See my profile

A/N: I had requests to do a story on Garcia and Reid's shopping trip. Here it is, I hope you enjoy it

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Reid paced the room. He looked at his watch for the third time in the last ten minutes. It was almost nine and Garcia had said she'd be here at nine. Maybe he'd be spared and Hotch would call with a case. How could he wish such a thing, that they would once again share someone's terror and sorrow, once again look into the abyss so that he didn't have to go shopping with Garcia? He looked around his apartment, as if saying goodbye to it for the last time. Calm down; he told himself. You're going to get some pillows and a throw blanket for the couch. If you don't like them, you can toss them in the closet when Garcia goes home. It wasn't like she visited him all the time and would know. He had hoped the tech would have forgotten her pledge to take him shopping in the New Year, but oh no, yesterday before going home she had reminded him that they had a "date." He loved Garcia, he really did, but, let's face it, he reminded himself, you've been in her place. You don't have her kind of style. Who does, he asked himself? But, he reasoned with himself again, you know your life wouldn't be nearly as much fun or as full if not for this brash, colorful, lively woman who looked for the good in everyone, who gave you a smile or a hug when you needed it most, and woke up each morning with an attitude that said, "Look out world, here I come."

He loved Garcia, he told himself again, and he loved few people; his mother… his father was a matter for a more lengthy introspective, JJ, he'd always love JJ, even though her feelings for him in that way were never reciprocated, Henry, he was his godson and part of JJ so how could he not love him, and Garcia. He was pleased to be affectionately known by JJ as Spence, and although he'd never admit it, he was inwardly delighted to be Garcia's sweetcheeks. So, the truth being what it was, he would look at this as an adventure, he finally convinced himself as the buzzer sounded announcing the arrival of the goddess herself.

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"Are you ready for this?" Garcia asked when he met her in the lobby of his apartment building.

"Sure Garcia," he replied, attempting to sound more confident than he was.

"Good, let's go to Décor and More first," she said.

"First?" Reid said, his confidence that this was going to be a quick trip began to wane just a bit.

"Sure, sweetcheeks, you can't just go to one place," she replied as they got into Esther.

"Why not," he wondered, considering it was his usual modus operandi when shopping. His confidence sagged just a bit further.

"Because," Garcia said as she reached into her bag that was bigger than his messenger bag and eventually pulled out a piece of paper, like a long cash register receipt when you did the Christmas grocery shopping, "I've got a list."

As she waved the paper in front of him and he saw that it was covered completely with Garcia's scrawl, all vestiges of the confidence he'd had, vanished, like barbeque chicken wings at a Super Bowl party.

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Reid didn't think he'd ever been in such a large furniture store. There were room settings everywhere, living rooms, bedrooms, dining rooms, kitchens and even outdoor patio rooms.

"Okay, your living room furniture is grey so, well, almost anything goes with grey," Garcia said as she looked around the massive store.

"It's a warm grey," Reid stated, "which has more green in it, as opposed to a cool grey which contains more blue. So you're likely better to get colors that are complementary to green than blue. Did you know that there were two theories of color? Sir Isaac Newton published his in 1704, followed later by an almost opposite theory in 1810 by Goethe."

"Fascinating," Garcia said absentmindedly as she spotted a selection of pillows and took off in that direction, like a bloodhound that had just picked up a scent, leaving Reid no choice but to follow. "Okay, Dr. expert on color, what's the complementary color for warm grey?"

Reid's eyes looked straight ahead as if observing a color wheel, "Well there's no actual complementary color for grey, but since warm grey contains more green, I guess it would be red," he said at last.

Garcia's eyes perked up. "Wonderful, I love red," she said, as Reid looked intently at his friend wondering if there was a color she didn't love.

"Did you know that when harmonizing colors are combined, they always make grey?" Reid asked.

Garcia gazed back at her friend with a look that, in part, asked, how she had gotten this far in life without that particular knowledge and partly with pity that her young friend knew so much about color but had experienced so little of its joy. Her look then turned to one of determination. That was about to change. She plucked a red pillow off of a pile, "How about this."

Reid turned holding a pillow of his own, and his eyes widened, "That's really bright Garcia," he said as he looked down at the pillow in his hands.

Garcia looked at the pillow Reid held. It was grey with black fern fronds that stood out on the fabric. "Reid, what color is that pillow?"

"Grey and black," he stated the obvious.

"And what color is your room?"

"Grey and black."

"Exactly," she took the pillow from him and tossed it on the pile. "Look at this red, faux suede, it'll make your room pop."

Reid's eyes narrowed. He always thought of his apartment as a place he slept, ate, watched television and read. He'd never thought of it popping.

"Okay if you say…" Reid stopped when something caught Garcia's eye once again and she was gone.

"OMG sweetcheeks," she said as she handed two of the red cushions to a passing salesman. "We'll take those." She carried on without looking back or waiting for a reply.

"Your wife seems eager," the salesman said to Reid, thinking this would be an easy day.

"Wife," Reid squeaked, "she's not my wife. She's my co-worker."

"Oh," the man glanced sideways at Reid and nodded knowingly, "I see."

Reid was silent for a moment until the inference hit him. "No," he said, "we're not…you know. She's my co-worker and my friend." The man nodded, but the slight smirk on his face told Reid that he didn't believe him. Finally Reid squeaked, "She's Garcia," as if that should be self explanatory and followed his wayward friend before she bought everything in the store.

"Look at these chairs Reid," Garcia said when he finally found her. Garcia was looking at two red chairs with low round backs that had vertical line quilting, the edges around the arms and back, as well as the legs were black ebony. "These would be perfect around your chess table, and then if you have people over, you can pull them around for extra seating."

"Garcia," Reid repeated, "I thought we came for pillows and a throw." Reid glanced at the price tag and squeaked. "Have you looked at how much this costs?"

"No, it's on my list, and anyway, we won't pay that." She put her hands on his cheeks under the watchful eye of the salesman who once again smirked. "Trust me, Penelope Garcia can negotiate." She pushed him back into the chair. "So, how does it feel? Close your eyes, think of playing chess in this lovely chair."

Reid did as he was told. It was comfortable and he did need chairs. He supposed they would look nice by the window. "Okay," he relented, "but what else is on that list?" He grabbed the list from her hand and scanned it for a nanosecond. "Area rug, wine glasses, dining table, Garcia there's no room for a dining table, and what exactly do you mean by accessories?"

"Oh you know… just a few things to brighten up the place and give it a little personality. Right now it looks like a depressed monk lives there."

"That's pretty much how it feels," Reid replied.

"Okay, I'll make you a deal," Garcia sat in the chair beside Reid, "you play along with me and I won't tell Morgan that Hotch caught you checking out women at the train station."

"How did you…Emily… okay, okay," he raised his hands in surrender. He paused for a moment. "But that's not a deal Garcia, it's blackmail."

"Semantics, sweetcheeks, it's all semantics," she stood and turned, "shall we?"


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: See my profile

A/N: Last chapter of this little fic, thanks to all who read and reviewed

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Garcia flipped through an assortment of area rugs at an establishment called The Magic Carpet. She'd had no luck in her search so far and the salespeople, who'd approached them twice, now left them alone. Reid gave a tiny wave to one of them, a woman who raised her eyebrows. Reid just shrugged his shoulders and pointed at Garcia who, intent on her task, seemed oblivious to everything and everyone around her. He thought it was better that way. He'd watched her talk Dan, the salesman at Décor and More, out of $300 on the pair of chairs and convinced him to throw in free delivery. By the time they left he knew who Garcia was and Reid just couldn't seem to stop the smirk that crossed his lips.

"What have we got here?" she said at last.

Reid stepped forward, ready to agree to almost anything that wasn't flowers. The rectangular rug was trimmed in a wide band of black. Inside the black were squares and rectangles in various sizes in red, white and grey, red being the most predominant color. Each square or rectangle was outlined in a similar band of black. To Reid's surprise, he actually liked it.

"Whatta ya think sweetcheeks?"

"I like it Garcia," he replied reaching into his wallet once again for his credit card that was getting a tougher than usual workout and handing it to Garcia who smiled slyly and headed for the checkout. The saleswoman who'd been so eager to serve them was about to meet Garcia. As he replaced his wallet in his pocket his cell rang. "Reid," he said after withdrawing it from his pocket.

"We can have that delivered for you this afternoon," the woman told Garcia as she signed away more of Reid's money.

Garcia smiled at the woman, "That would be…"

"Not possible," Reid interjected. He held his cell up and Garcia frowned at his announcement of, "Duty calls."

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The team looked at the pictures on the white board of the damage done by three fires started by a serial arsonist in the city of Portland, Maine. The first two fires had only caused minor damage to the City Hall on Congress Street and the Health and Human Services department on Lancaster Street. The third fire, however, had resulted in injury to two families and the death of Jeremy McCumbre. The six year old child's face smiled at them from his first, and sadly last, school photo tacked in place on the white board. So far there had been no indication as to why these fires were being set.

"What if it has to do with the city of Portland?" Reid asked.

"What are you getting at Reid?" Hotch asked.

"The city seal has a phoenix rising from the ashes and its motto, resugam, is Latin for 'I will rise again.' It stands for Portland's recovery from four devastating fires, the first the great fire of July 4th, 1866. The Bell Street Transitional Housing Project is also a city run operation to help homeless families get back on their feet and become independent. What if our arsonist went to the city for help and didn't get it, so he or she is attacking city government run sites?"

There was silence for a moment and then Prentiss ventured, "Where do you come up with this stuff? What… do you know the seal and history of every city in the country?"

"That's ridiculous Prentiss… not every city," Reid admitted.

"So you think there are going to be four fires?" Rossi asked.

Reid nodded, "If that's the criteria the unsub's going by, then yeah."

"Let's get Garcia working on that." Hotch said.

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"No, you don't understand, I'm calling from the FBI but it's not FBI related and I don't actually need to speak to h…" Garcia said as her phone beeped. "Oh, I have to go; I'll get back to you." She punched the button and quickly punched another, "Speak ye who seek answers."

Hotch told Garcia what he wanted.

"I'll get on that, and you'll know when I do." She pushed the button with her pen to end the call and her fingers began their rapid trip over the keyboard.

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Hotch's phone rang, "What have you got Garcia," he said and held the phone out for the others to hear.

"Okay, I did like you asked and looked into complaints against the city. As you can guess there's everything from complaints about garbage disposal and parking tickets to the dog leash bylaw. Soooo, since the second building hit was the HHS department, I concentrated on complaints against social services which was a bit more manageable. I ran the names through my database and came up with something that looks promising."

"What is it Garcia?" Hotch said impatiently.

"Okay, there's an Anita Dunbar who went to HHS about her husband beating their son. She wanted HHS to do something about it."

"Let me guess," Prentiss interjected. "They made a home visit and nothing was amiss and they told her they couldn't do anything until there was some kind of evidence."

"Ooh, Emily gets a gold star. Anita complained that her husband had warning of the upcoming visit because he's an officer in the PPD. At the end of November, their little boy Jonathan was so badly beaten he's in the ICU on life support. They say he's brain dead," Garcia finished.

"How old is Jonathan baby girl?" Morgan asked.

"Six," the tech replied, "poor little guy. And, they want Anita Dunbar to discontinue life support on Jonathan."

"Same age as the boy who died," Hotch remarked.

"What happened with the husband?" Morgan asked.

"Apparently, he's in the wind." Garcia reported, "Sounds like he didn't want his co-workers to have a chance to get their hands on him."

"The first fire started in mid December," Reid said, "so Jonathan's beating and the inevitability of his condition must have been the stressor. Anita Dunbar feels that if the city had helped her when she'd asked for it her son wouldn't be where he is now."

"So if there's going to be another fire, where would she go next," Prentiss wondered.

"Garcia, what precinct did Officer Dunbar work out of?" Rossi asked.

They heard the tech's fingers clicking over the keyboard. "Philip Dunbar worked out of South Portland, 30 Anthoine Street."

"That's where she'll go next," Hotch agreed. "Thanks Garcia." Hotch shut his cell and put it in his pocket. "The weather's really getting nasty out there." The team looked at the window where the heavy snow and blowing was producing almost whiteout conditions.

"Maybe that'll prevent her from acting," Morgan suggested.

"We can't count on that. Her mission's not completed and she hasn't got a lot to lose, just drive carefully." Hotch reminded his team mates as they headed for the door.

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"You got her," Garcia asked Morgan.

"Yeah, mama, we caught her in the basement. The precinct was really busy. This snowstorm has the cops up to their necks in accident reports. The LEOs here are really upset, because they know her and her boy. I guess X-rays showed healed fractures on the kid so the abuse had been going on for a long time. They just never thought the guy they worked with was doing this to his kid."

"That's so sad, hurry home with the rest of my doves."

"Yeah, well that might be a bit of a problem. The snow here is horrific and the Portland International Jetport is closed. All the airports in New York are closed too. The whole northern seaboard was hit with a wild noreaster. So, we're stuck here until the weather improves."

"Sit tight until it's safe," Garcia admonished.

"I hear ya, baby girl, bye for now."

Garcia pushed the button on her phone. Although it was likely annoying for them, it might work out well for her, she had work to do. Her pen went to work on another phone number.

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"You did what?" Morgan asked in disbelief.

"Well, I didn't mean to," Reid replied. "We'd just chosen this rug and then we got the call and hurried to Quantico and I never thought of it."

"Thought of what?" Rossi asked as he placed his coffee cup on the table and sat beside Morgan on the plane, finally in the sky after two days.

"Garcia's been in possession of Reid's credit card for the last two days," Morgan told him.

"I'm sure she wouldn't do anything behind my back," Reid said confidently.

"And here I thought you were a genius," Rossi remarked.

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Reid turned the key in the door of his apartment and reached up for the light switch. He dropped his messenger and go bags inside the door and stared into the room. He blinked a couple of times and opened his eyes again. This was his apartment, he assured himself. He knew the couch, the bookcases and the chess table Rossi had given him for Christmas, but it seemed like he was in someone else's home. The rug he and Garcia had bought now lay under the front of his couch and continued almost to the bookcases. It looked terrific. His couch now had several throw pillows. He smiled to himself, the largest being the grey with black ferns that he had first looked at contrasting nicely with the bright red that Garcia had chosen and finished with a smaller lumbar pillow in black, grey and shiny silver stripes. A red throw now adorned the back of his sofa and his lamps had red shades. They did make the room pop. The red chairs looked stunning on either side of the chess table. His desk was gone, he noted, and had been replaced by a table with two stools beneath it. One corner of the table was graced with three chess pieces, a black queen, about fifteen inches tall, with a white knight and rook, both a few inches shorter. The other corner contained a bust of Einstein that made Reid grin. Above the table was a framed print of a tree, its leaves a fiery red. Its effect with the surrounding black was dramatic. In the center of his coffee table was a decorative box of lacquered wood that looked to Reid to be hand painted in a delicate red and taupe floral motif. Garcia was bound to get flowers in here somewhere. One end table had three white candles of varying heights while the other contained a small bonsai plant.

He caught sight of his desk. It was down in the little nook at the end of the hallway. A floating shelf held some books, but the artwork was what caught his eye. A simply framed map of the world from 1689 hung above the desk. The western and eastern hemispheres were in circles and around the circles, warriors, toga clad men and women and winged cherubs had been painted. His laptop sat on the desk and a pen holder had been added. Inside it was a red pen with a large wispy plume on the end. Only Garcia, Reid thought as his lips turned upward.

He turned back toward the living room, realizing for the first time that all the books had been removed from one of the shelves and it now housed three framed photographs. He walked towards them. The first had been taken at JJ's on Christmas day. Henry sat on his lap as they both smiled at the camera. The middle photograph had been taken on a fourth of July picnic a couple of years ago. Emily sat on a bench in the park between JJ and Garcia, Rossi stood behind the bench, one arm around Hotch's shoulders, the other around Morgan's. He sat cross legged on the grass. His hair sticking out in all directions as one of the girls had just tousled it. They all smiled at the woman holding the camera, even Hotch. He replaced the photo and picked up the last one. She wasn't smiling widely, just a little smirk. She wore a navy jacket over a white satin blouse; a simple band of pearls adorned her neck. Her blonde hair was neat and wispy and she had makeup on. Garcia must have altered the background in photoshop. She was beautiful. He ran his fingers over the glass, "Mom," he choked out barely above a whisper.

How had she done all this? It didn't matter, she was Garcia, she ruled. It seemed like magic, though not the kind of magic he knew, slick tricks and illusions, this was a different kind of magic, the magic of the human heart and soul.

"How did I do?" the voice seemed not to be real for a moment and he turned around slowly to see her standing there with a smile as wide as the ocean, her red pigtails bouncing on top of her head.

"It's… I… I don't know what to say." He still clutched the picture of his mother close to his heart.

"Wait until you get the bill, you'll likely have lots to say then," she giggled as she approached him.

"No, it's okay. Why were you hiding?"

"I wanted you to see it by yourself. So, how'd I do? Do you like it?"

"I love it, all of it, thank you Garcia." Reid set his mother's picture on the shelf again.

"Don't thank me, you have no idea how much I love shopping."

"Uh, yeah, I think I do, but that's okay, I'd go shopping with you any day."

"Hm," she said as she led him over to his island where a bottle of wine was cooling on ice next to two wine glasses. "You may be sorry you said that. I've been hiding in your bedroom for a while and I have definite ideas for a makeover. " She reached into the pocket of her slacks. "I've got a list."


End file.
